To Sleep, Perchance to Dream
by Elanthra
Summary: Life is bittersweet in Pegasus. Rodney gets to make his ZPM at long last but then tragedy strikes... 'This is her punishment. Alone. Watching John through the glass.' John and Teyla friendship. Teyla angst. Shep Whump.
1. Chapter 1

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

Disclaimer:I do not own Stargate Atlantis. Therefore, I shall not get halfway through this story and inform you that I'm scrapping this to write a Stargate Universe one and you should think yourselves lucky that I'm going to publish another part sometime next year, but hey, you'll get over it as long as you get your 'fix'! Therefore, I shall not tell you that you are outside my preferred demographic to read this story. Therefore, I shall not tell you that I'm only interested in attracting readers who are new to this genre. Therefore, I shall not tell you that 'all good things must come to an end...'

Right. Now, I've got that off my chest, back to the story...

Here's something I threw together while updating Dead Man's Shoes... see what you think...

It was set forward in Season 5 (or even Season 6, but that's not going to happen now, is it?) before I even got to see Season 5 in the UK and I avoid anything spoilerish like the plague, so there are some discrepancies... e.g. I assumed there was no more Kanaan... don't think it spoils the story though...

15,000 plus words. Three parts, to be published, Mon, Weds. and Thurs.

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream - Part One

He had to get off the mountain.

Before the breath in his lungs froze.

The Jumper lay behind him in the snow. Black and smoking. So he had nothing.

Clear blue, blue sky. Black distant peaks. Black jagged rocks that cut the snow. And the snow, white, brilliant and blinding.

Alone. He had no one. And he had nothing.

Thrown against the controls on impact. Busted ribs for sure, despite the vest.

Now to wade through deep, deep snow. The cold. The pain at his chest. Altitude. Breaths short. And cutting. Couldn't think straight. Need to think straight. And get off the mountain.

Down. Down the mountain. Cold soft white, white snow that shushed and hushed but crushed at energy. Legs that were numb and stumbled. Ploughing a way through the snow. Hands that were numb. One to hold the pain at his chest. One flailing in the snow. Driving a way through the snow. For he had to get off this goddamned mountain.

Breaths that cut and snagged. The cold numbing thought. Thought only of aching cold. The sounds of the snow. Shushing and hushing. Soft. So soft. Sleep. So weary. He could sleep. He could drop into the softness and not get off the mountain.

The trail of a desperate animal. White spotted with red. White spotted with blood. The taste of blood in his mouth. That froze on his lips. He… had… to… get… off… the… mountain.

He fell.

Kicked and kicked wildly at the snow. White. White all around. That smothered and buried. Couldn't breath. Couldn't breath. And pain… god-awful pain cutting his body in two…

…Kicking at the bedclothes tangled at his feet. Laying face down in the pillow. Laying uncomfortably at the very edge of the bed. So his ribs hurt...

It'd been a dream then…

He shifted. One day, he was gonna put in an order for a bigger bed.

He blearily watched the hem of the gauzy curtains at the nearby open window, drifting in. And out. Breathing rhythmically with the chill dawn breeze blowing in from the sea. He shivered. Pulled the cover up over his body and head, turned over and fell asleep again…

…And he was asleep again. With breath so still. So still… His arms folded on his chest. Which was weird. He never slept like that. At least... his side no longer hurt.

Outside. Outside the window. Thumping noises. Voices that called but muffled by the deep, deep snow.

He felt annoyed. Soon, he would get up and shut that damn window. Get up and shut that damn window. But he couldn't. Because he was so still… and his breath was so still…

He hadn't made it off the mountain then…

The man in red robes. Throwing off the heavy animal skin coat, wet and flecked with flakes of snow. Handing it to his companion. Approaching the bed with haste and concern.

"How long ago?"

"An hour."

"A little hasty with the funeral pyre?" He indicated to the window, where labourers could be seen hewing timbers.

"The weather is turning again."

"An hour. Then there is still time…"

_Wake up, mahalele. Wake up, mahalele. It is not time for you to sleep._

And the heat from the man's hand reached for his very heart…

…He woke again with a start. Now he was hot. And threw off the covers angrily. Damn, his head just didn't get it! He needed the sleep…

oOo

"He wanted you to have this." A small wooden box.

"What is it?"

"A gift. Yes. You may look inside." A silver ball. Nestled on a red velvet cushion.

"Again, what is it?"

"We do not know. We assumed that you do."

"Why did he die? He looked so well."

"It happens. When a life is given, the giver's own is often forfeited."

oOo

"Well, it's impressive…" said Radek, looking down at the opaque silver ball, measuring a hand's breadth across, sitting neatly on its red velvet cushion in its box of mahogany, or Ingoran equivalent.

"Yeah, impressively so not interesting!" snorted Rodney.

"No. It is impressive," maintained Radek in a calm level voice. "It is no mean feat to engineer a construct such as this, a perfectly solid sphere," he said, pushing his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose, trying to preserve a serious expression.

"So you still don't know what it is, or what it's for?"

"Its molecular composition eludes-" began Radek.

"Look, Sheppard!" butted in Rodney impatiently, "it's harmless! It's _not _an explosive device, (Woolsey had insisted on a containment unit before he could bring it through the 'Gate.) _or_ a weapon _or_ a power source! That's what you wanted to know, isn't it?" And Rodney had picked up the ball and was playfully tossing it from one hand to another. Sheppard fought the urge to snatch it from him. Hell, the guy who'd given it to him, had died to save his life.

"It has no energy signature whatsoever, you see," explained Radek. "It is completely inert."

"Sheppard! Slice off the bottom, and you have a very useful… paperweight!" and Rodney slammed the ball against Sheppard's chest so hard and so suddenly that Sheppard was forced to cradle it quickly in his arms to prevent a broken toe. And Rodney left.

"Or a door stop." And Radek followed. Bursting out into a fit of giggles when he joined Rodney. The two sniggering in unaccustomed shared humour.

oOo

"You're late! And you look awful!" Rodney. As usual, good with the compliments.

"Couldn't sleep."

Teyla, he liked. More sympathetic. "Bad dreams, Colonel?"

Well, he wasn't exactly going to admit to that… Rodney would never let him hear the last of it. And he knew Ronon would be in full smirking mode too. He pretended he hadn't heard either. But Teyla wouldn't let up.

There was something about having a baby that made her more… maternally. Was that a word? Not one he'd use anyhow. But it would do. More maternally to all and sundry.

"Not premonitions I hope?"

"Oh, please!" Rodney might ridicule. But Teyla understood. She understood that Earth soldiers were superstitious. With their talk of lucky charms. Or being jinxed… and bad dreams before a mission. Though Sheppard was never bothered with any of that.

"No. Just couldn't sleep." And he ran a hand through his thick black hair, stifling a yawn, waiting for Chuck to activate the 'Gate. Wishing he'd got out of bed a whole lot sooner and not missed breakfast. He could really do with some of that coffee right now. If Rodney had left any… He doubted that Rodney had managed much shut-eye either. Derision aside, Sheppard could see that Rodney was still as excited about M89 P23 as he had been at 03.30AT that morning…

M89 P23 should not have had an operational gate. They'd never been able to access it since they had first arrived at Atlantis. There were twenty or so such gates that for some reason were inactive. Now and then, usually on the twilight shift, when controllers were bored stupid, a programme was run to systemically try accessing them one last time. Little expecting any change.

There never was.

Till last night.

Just after midnight.

When the dial out to M89 P23 activated a viable wormhole. Rodney was summoned. And he was still bouncing around like a puppy when Woolsey had arrived. And when Sheppard had finally been persuaded to crawl out of bed.

It was ok for Rodney. He hardly ever needed three or four hours sleep. Perhaps because he still had twenty five years worth of strong black coffee to work off. And then he hadn't been stuck on QW2 49T the previous night, when a whole herd of Mongo beasts had taken up residence in front of the Stargate just before their return. And Mongo beasts were sacred to the people on Mongo. And it was taboo to shoo them away. And you didn't go near them anyhow coz of their poisonous spikes. And so there was nothing for it but to sit tight and wait for them to mosey on out. But can you sleep with Mongo beasts fifty metres away? Hell no! Their guide said it was mating season and that's when they hoot, honk and boom… all night long. Sheppard was military trained and could normally grab fifty winks wherever and through whatever but… not… through… that… By dawn break, he was ready to kill someone…and it could have easily have been Rodney… He was the first to greet them in Atlantis and was far too bright and breezy for his own good, insisting they head straight back, because the technology they'd spent a whole fruitless search for the previous day was there after all, and when the Mongo beasts _really _get into mating then the people of Mongo fast and don't accept guests and shut down the gate and that would be, by his reckoning, that very evening. But another whole day of fruitlessly searching. And yeah, Sheppard had already been through his mental list of fifty ways to murder a McKay when he eventually did get some sleep of one and a half hours before Rodney was at his door. And it wouldn't have been too difficult to add another fifty ways to kill a Mckay, or to have narrowed it down to just the one throat tightening variety but he was too damned tired and would have been too damned tired to have carried out the evil deed anyway.

"Look! Look! Don't you see it!" exclaimed Rodney, in front of the console, bringing up telemetry from the Malp.

"Wha? Wha's there?" Well, he wouldn't see anything through half-shut eyes, would he? Nor propped up against a console for support with his arms folded. A whole two metres away.

"It appears to be…" and Woolsey frowned with the concentration of peering at the screen, "inside a building?" He removed his glasses and squinted, to see if that helped to see more clearly. It didn't. He put them back on "But it's dark. Quite honestly, it is very difficult to discern anything, Dr. McKay," he said straightening up.

"Yes! Yes! I know that!" said Rodney, impatiently. "Sheppard!" And Rodney turned to see where he'd gotten to. Why wasn't the Military Commander right at his side when he wanted him?

"Rodney?!" And Sheppard had woken with a start.

"Oh, come on, some more interest wouldn't go amiss! It's Atlantis, Sheppard! It's Atlantis!"

"What is?" Now his sleepy brain was really confused. Or was his confused brain really sleepy? Atlantis. That's where they were now, right? Or had he slept through something…

"It's another Atlantis, Sheppard! And it's underwater!"

Well, that got his attention…

oOo

"No! No! Emphatically no, gentlemen!" Woolsey. Putting the dampeners on everything. As always.

It didn't help that the lights went on suddenly and there were these guys on the other end looking just like Replicators. They didn't appear threatening and regarded their Malp with mild condescending amusement. Which really got up Rodney's nose and nearly put him off the idea anyway. They'd explained they'd had a power failure which hadn't happened in two and a half thousand years. They really shouldn't have been so apologetic, coz, well, some utility companies back home would love that sort of record. And it'd been playing havoc with their systems ever since. So that's why the 'gate which they kept closed against the Wraith had been temporarily opened. No. They weren't Replicators. Well, someone had to ask… and they seemed a little affronted that they had. A mixture of humans and Ancients and Ancient humans… Like Atlantis then… though hidden from the Wraith…hidden from Pegasus… all these years.

And then it was Atlantis turn to answer the questions. A whole load of shrugging coz, really no one had the answers. No. They weren't Ancients. No. They didn't know what happened to the Ancients who'd retreated to Earth. They probably ascended. No. We didn't kill them. Yeah, we can work the tech coz some of us have the ATA gene. How was that? Dunno. Ancient experimentation probably. Or… _they slept around_. But no one was prepared to tell them that. Ok. Since your Machine is through the gate, you may as well come too. Recognized kinship and all that. No weapons though. No weapons? Ronon won't like that. Hell, Sheppard didn't like the sound of that either.

Woolsey still adamant. They could still be Replicators. Just like the time when the Team and Elizabeth first went to the Replicator Homeworld. And that was just like Atlantis. And why hadn't they ascended, like on Earth? Shouldn't just take their word for it. Sometimes you just have to take a chance. It's called trust, Woolsey. Ever heard of that? So he relented.

And Rodney struggled with the concept too. Trust. Rodney. It's a sort of polite thing. It goes with good manners. You don't mess up. You don't just dive in there and _ask _for ZPMs. You wait for them to be offered. Ok? And quit drooling.

And then Sheppard said it could wait till morning. He was dead beat.

"But Sheppard!"

"It can wait Rodney!

"But Sheppard!"

"I said it can wait until morning Rodney!"

"But Sheppard, it _is_ morning!"

"Crap!"

oOo

But he was gonna get one more hour. One more glorious hour if it killed him.

oOo

Perhaps Woolsey was right. But he wasn't gloating. Which would be unusual. Except he had so much fear on his face, there wasn't enough room for gloating.

They'd just come through the 'gate and were immediately surrounded by guys in white overalls, and breathing masks - and _guns_.

"Ok, so what happened to trust?" asked Ronon as they all raised their hands.

"Yeah, what he said." As Sheppard eyed up the weapons. But they weren't dead.

"Please don't be alarmed. You have to understand…" came a muffled voice through one of the masks, "the last time someone came through the 'gate, we fought a plague for months after and were nearly wiped out. We have to insist that each of you have a medical. "

"Well, that seems fair," said a relieved Woolsey. He didn't have to wet himself then. "We…" and his voice cracked, his nerves still tight in his throat, "would have to also have to insist on that protocol if the situation were reversed."

"At least," pointed out Rodney, in a low voice, "they're not Replicators. Would they be afraid of human disease?"

"Unless it's a ruse?" pointed out Ronon, in an equally low voice.

And Woolsey was scared again.

oOo

"Separate rooms? Well, that's mighty decent of you…" but he didn't want the Team split up. What happened to trust, Sheppard?

"You do not approve? It is for your privacy. We thought you would prefer it that way."

"It is fine," said Teyla, smiling politely.

"You sure?" asked Sheppard softly. "You're sure you're ok with this?" He shouldn't feel more protective of her than the others. It should never make any difference that she was a woman. It never had. But now she was a mother too. Did it make her any more vulnerable? Nothing could be worse through that door than being in the hands of Michael, after all…

"Do not concern yourself." Trust. And he had to trust that she knew best.

Rodney was the problem. Hesitating before his door. Blowing out breaths.

"I can do this…I can do this…" Wiping sweaty palpitating hands on the back of his BDUs. He was gonna get a prod with one of those guns if he didn't look out. But how do you explain to total strangers that the guy had a morbid fear of anything… medical.

"It's for ZPMs, Rodney," he encouraged.

"Yeah, right…" and Rodney walked in.

oOo

"I don't like it," growled Ronon. They were all waiting in the corridor. Except Woolsey, who as leader of Atlantis had gone off to do… negotiating stuff. And except Sheppard. Who hadn't come out yet. At least the guys in the white hazmut suits had gone.

Ronon was pacing up and down.

"Why are they holding onto Sheppard for so long?" He made up his mind. "I'm going in there."

Teyla pulled at his sleeve sharply.

"No. No. You must not upset out hosts."

And just then the door opened. And out walked Sheppard with a female medic. No. And out walked a smiling Sheppard with a 'hot' lady medic.

Rodney rolled his eyes. "We can't leave you a minute!"

"I don't know what you mean, Rodney…" as he eyed up the medic walking away down the corridor.

Who stopped once.

And looked back smiling at Sheppard.

Who looked back smiling appreciatively at the medic.

Who looked back smiling seductively at Sheppard.

A male assistant came hurrying along the corridor in the opposite direction.

"We apologise for keeping you all waiting but we've just been assessing Colonel Sheppard's ATA gene."

"Hey, I've got that too!" protested Rodney. And now he was pissed off about two things. Firstly. He'd had a thick grunt of a male doctor who had been none too gentle in… certain areas of his examination. And secondly. Sheppard's cocky grin of superiority.

"Ah, but Rodney…you're not a natural…" and he just knew Sheppard meant that in more ways than one…

And there was worse to come…

"They were really impressed, Rodney. It appears I'm a lot more Ancienty than anyone ever knew. In fact, they're so impressed that if you go along with this nice assistant now, he'll take you to his lab. and show you around and-"

"-Yeah, and I'd want to do that, why?" The male assistant looked a little offended.

"Hey! Don't knock it, Rodney, I've just offered my body to science to give you this chance."

"Offered your body to what? Is that what they're calling it these days!" Ronon and Teyla were smirking.

Sheppard sighed and prodded Rodney repeatedly on the shoulder to punctuate his every word. "If-you-go along-with-the-nice-assistant-he'll-take-you-to-his-lab-and-help-you-produce-your-first-ZPM."

Rodney just stood there.

He was hearing things, right? He was dreaming, right?

He stared at Sheppard. Wide eyed. His mouth may have been wide open too. Coz he just stood there. Stupid. He was hearing and dreaming things. Coz ZPMs just didn't get offered in corridors outside of med. rooms. You had to slog away for endless hours at a screen looking for possible locations. You had to go on long dangerous missions for ZPMs. You had to fight the enemy for ZPMs. You had to endure untold hardships for ZPMs. You didn't just get ZPMs simply because Sheppard had had a medical.

But he'd always dreamt it hadn't he? Always dreamt it could, would, would eventually, be this easy.

"You're… kidding," his voice hoarse. Please don't let Sheppard be kidding. Coz it _really_ wasn't funny this time.

"No, Rodney… I'm very deadly serious." There was a smile there. But not that sort of smile. A smile that he was pleased too. A smile… and no, Sheppard wasn't the least bit like them… but a smile Aunties gave you when they handed you what they knew was just one of your most favourite toffees in the whole wide Universe.

But, Sheppard was always so good at this. At the wind up. But, and Rodney looked, the assistant was serious too.

"This is for real?"

Sheppard nodded gravely. "For real, Rodney." No. No. Soon Sheppard was going to crack up sniggering. And Teyla. And Ronon. Unable to hold back the laughter anymore. And Rodney would be the fall guy, yet again.

"Why? Why are they doing this?" Verification. There! That would suss them out. That would find out if this was just one big joke at his expense.

Sheppard shrugged. "Kinship?"

"Right…" and Rodney nodded in understanding. "This is for real then?" He was repeating himself.

"Yes, Rodney, it really is for real."

"Now? I'll go now?"

"Yes, now."

And Rodney was wiping sweaty palpitating hands on his pants. "This is it then…"

"Yeah, Rodney… this is it…"

oOo

Sheppard couldn't sleep. And neither apparently could Teyla.

He'd gone for a stroll, exploring, their hosts having practically given them the freedom of the city. But he was bored. Listless. Corridor after corridor. The same as Atlantis. Only with more tech.

That's when he found Teyla. Looking at the underwater strangeness of the ocean beyond the glass of a large window.

"It is so airless, so stifling… was Atlantis like this when you found her?"

He couldn't honestly remember. There had been too much going on at the time. Perhaps a coldness. Perhaps a staleness in the air.

He propped himself against the low sill leaning with one thigh, also taking in the view.

"You didn't need to stay you know. I thought you'd want to get back to Junior."

"They have an historian… Gelian… who was very interested in the Athosians… we were talking and it became very late…"

…And somehow, she is able to open up to this stranger. This mahalele. And she tells him of her childhood. Of the Wraith. Growing up in the eternal threat of culling. Losing her family to them. How she had trained to fight, in order to protect her people from them. Meeting John Sheppard, another mahalele, for the first time. The move of her and her people to Atlantis. How one among the Athosians had captured her heart and was the father of her child. About Michael. And her rescue...

He suggested we met again over breakfast… but now, I find I cannot sleep." She smiled weakly. "Too much excitement in one day… and there is such a suffocating air… I was wondering if there was a gym…" and she could tire herself out.

"It's probably the shielding…" he said, nearly absently. "I'd thought about going for a run…" Same reason. But he'd only his BDUs and boots. Though he knew that if he'd asked, the Ingorians would only be too pleased to find him something more suitable…

"You cannot sleep either? And yet you were so tired this morning?"

"Same as you, I guess…" he shrugged. "Too much excitement." And his face frowned. A round of meetings. Appointments. Guided tours. People to see. Even another medical. Invitations to lunch. When he met their Leader. With Woolsey. Coffee. Or the Ingorian equivalent. With sweet snacks. And a lavish supper later. Ignoring the initial welcoming reception, they really had been throwing out the red carpet. But it made his head whirl. With all the small talk. Which was polite. And the medium talk. Which was about Earth. And large talk. Negotiating trade. Technological exchanges. He just wasn't used to doing all the dignitary stuff. Hell, he might as well as gone and worked for his Dad. And tomorrow, or the day after the next, depending on when Rodney was finished, they'd have to do the whole thing over in reverse. On Atlantis.

He stood, putting his hands in his pockets.

And Teyla sighed. "On Atlantis, at least, we have the balconies." Or can go out onto a pier.

He had an idea. Impulsive, he knew.

"There's an island close by, on the surface." He'd seen the maps. "Why don't we hotwire a Jumper?"

"Hotwire?" Her mystified face. Hell, she really had meant it when she'd said she was bored with the cop movies and had gone to sleep.

"Yeah… it means borrow." Of course, he didn't actually have to steal it. But he just didn't want to go into the moralities of grand theft Jumper right then…

"The Ingorians would not mind?" She sounded doubtful.

Feel free to explore the city, he remembered them saying. And tomorrow they were going to take him out in a Jumper to a much larger mainland beyond anyway. And yeah, imagine having _this_ luxury - their security was pretty damned lax. Especially as it was late.

"No, you forget, I'm their blue-eyed boy at the moment." And he turned heading for the Jumper bay before she had the chance to go all pedantic on him and point out that he actually had hazel eyes.

oOo

Two white moons. One in partial eclipse. But sufficient light to see the beach where they'd parked. The black sea laced silver and frilly. Murmuring softly. Whispering with the dry rattle of tall sea grasses that grew on near by dunes.

"It is a beautiful evening," and Teyla gratefully drew in deep breaths of the cooling air. She was pleased that she allowed herself to be persuaded to come.

"Yeah," said a pensive Sheppard, kicking at dry, loose sand. But it was not a shyness that came from their close physical contact. They had long ago put their relationship on a friends only basis. Nothing had been said. It had just happened that way. And could not mutual respect be a stronger bond than the love between a man and a woman? Sometimes she felt uneasy about the way John regarded her, however. As if… she'd been placed on a pedestal and could never be touched…

No. This shyness came from an unfamiliarity…no an unwillingness to… she had heard the people of Earth laugh at this and to use the inverted commas sign… though she believed the phrase to be truly applicable in most cases… an unwillingness to connect with their inner self… an unfamiliarity with emotions that would admit there actually was beauty around them and they could be affected by it. The denial was strong in most Earth males she had discovered. It was certainly strong in John. But it did not necessarily follow that those emotions were not there…

They'd walked in silence for a few moments.

"Do you believe that anything will come of this mission to Ingoria?"

"Hope so…But this is a rest period…You're not supposed to talk shop…" She could sense his wry smile in the semi darkness. He really had had his fill of Ingoria for one day.

"Rodney still works."

"Yeah…give him coffee and he'll do that."

"He was not too upset by the news then?"

" 'Fraid so, and then some…" But they'd all felt pretty gutted. And to give Woolsey fair dues, it'd been the Lantean Commander's finest hour to try and dissuade the Ingorians. But they had continued to insist that ZPMs were only for use on Atlantis. And that in weaponry, they were to be used only for defensive purposes. And they demanded periodical inspections to ensure the Lanteans kept within those perimeters. Hell, it was going be like having two IOAs breathing down their necks.

The change of heart came about when they'd heard of things like… wars and factional societies on Earth. They took the Asgard viewpoint. That Earth wasn't ready for the technological advances that Ingoria could offer them. And they didn't wish for one sector to have an unfair advantage over the others. Woolsey's principal argument had been that with the new means to generate power alone, they'd no longer be any need to fight over valuable resources. It'd cut little ice. They just had to be grateful that Atlantis was still permitted the use of the ZPMs out of some sort of sentimentality, though they'd still have to go cap in hand to the Ingorians for the raw materials…

"Walked far enough now?"

Teyla nodded.

"I think I will take that run…" he decided. Up through the sand dunes. That should really knock him out and make him sleep. "See ya back at the Jumper." And he pushed off and was gone into the shadowy grasses.

Only a minute later, and he slithered down through a gap, some fifty metres further on, sending a cascade of sand before him. He turned quickly to look back up the way he'd just come. Something was wrong…

"John?!" she called, hurrying.

"Can you… that smell!" Disgust in his voice. And he'd brought up an arm to cover his nose.

She nearly laughed. And certainly smiled broadly. At his squeamishness. He was concerned by… an odour?

But as she approached, she smelt it too. And instinctively followed his example. Covering her face. Something like the 'rotten egg' smell that once emanated from Rodney's lab. and caused a widespread panic.

Found the back of her throat. Choking. And her eyes stung. And watered. And John already madly coughing.

And a strangled curse broke through…

"What the?" And she dared to look. A shadow moving at John's feet. Drifting. Layering. Thickening fast around him. Even in the moonlight she saw its colour. A brown mist. The colour of…iodine…Curling upwards.

"John! Move!" But she moved towards him instead. As he seemed paralysed. Or blinded already. Made helpless by the mist.

"Stay…Stay…Back!" Spluttered through the paroxysm of his lungs. She stopped. Hesitating. As he dropped to his knees. Perhaps less potent there? Less of the mist. But now lower still. A hand on his belly. And another that hardly kept him from the ground. Wanting to crawl but couldn't. Groaning in the coughing. She moved again. The gas taking her own air as cutting in her throat.

"No!! No!! Go back!! What is it?! What is it?!" And the scream filled up the beach and the whole night. As he rolled over onto his back. Screaming in agony. And she hesitated again. Chilled and frozen by the scream. This is not John. This is not John. John never screams. He never screams.

"I…can't see! I… can't… see! Damn!... It's... in my eyes!"

...She would move forward. But now… mesmerised… transfixed... Now he is burning… Horrified… he is burning before her… this is seconds only… but he is burning fast… his clothes smoulder and flake away as ash… his skin red and blistering… before her very eyes… he is silent now… and writhes and arches his back… silent hell now… silent screams through screaming lips that burn and blister and blacken like the rest of his face… it is the vision of the Ancient pilot again… but this is real… this is John… and she can do nothing but stand and watch… now he is burning… now he is burning… and she cannot... move forward…

oOo


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks reviewers!_

_I've said somewhere before that I like ambiguity and I think that goes with the story's theme of sleep and dreams and..._

* * *

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream - Part Two

She is living two nightmares. One has passed but lingers. A vivid memory. She lives through its every detail. Over... and over... and over...

The second nightmare is just beginning…

She is standing, staring through the glass…

Ronon chooses to sit, slouching in one of the armchairs, legs crossed, outstretched, studying his boots. Anything but look at the tank. She casts an anxious glance back at him. He doesn't speak… not a word. He won't say what he is thinking… his face says it all though…

She turns back to the glass. And lives the first nightmare again.

With stick fighting.

A way to control the mind. A way to control the body. A way to breathe. Deep. That increases both stealth and power. To feed power into the blow. A way to control mind and body to increase defence against pain. Some say it is mind over matter. An Earth phrase. A mantra helps. _Breathe deep. And I will feel no pain._

A deep breathe into her sleeve and she takes those first steps forward. _Breathe deep. And I will feel no pain. I will feel nothing._

The strange brown mist all around. She moves his arms, gripped tightly to his sides. His skin peels off, sticky and sodden, against her own. _Breathe deep. And I will feel nothing._

Her own arms around his chest and hitches him up. _Breathe deep. I will feel nothing._

He struggles against her. A gurgling liquid groan. He doesn't wish her to do this._ Breathe deep. I will feel nothing._

But she drags him free of the mist. _Breathe deep. I will feel nothing._

And allows her hold of him to slip. Falling back into the sand. She has felt nothing. She looks at her hands. She has felt nothing. She is untouched. Unmarked.

She feels nothing… No… She feels guilt… guilt that will burn and scar her forever…

oOo

The second nightmare…

The tank forms a square. Large enough to hold a man in any direction. All four sides of glass. The top, sealed with composite. The base holds the controls. And from this, a dozen or so strange blue lights glare up at the vat's contents. The blue of the light is intense. There is no other light source in the room. Their use, to regulate a steady low temperature, it has been explained. This is important, they've added. For the effervescent healing liquid within is a coolant. For the poor unfortunates inside. There are four such tanks operational at the moment in that large room. Out of a total of twenty.

And one holds John Sheppard.

Jenny has been talking with one of the Ingorian medical assistants and comes over. She glances up at John. No more than that. No more than a glance. Even she then, cannot bear to look for long. Not like Teyla. Eyes fixed before her. This is her punishment.

"Teyla?" The Athosian scarcely acknowledges her name.

"Teyla? We've decided… we won't be moving him… this is far better than we have to offer." Teyla doesn't respond. Staring still, at the tank before her. "He is in good hands… We really think you should return to Atlantis with us… Torren John… surely you wish to see Torren John?" and not torment herself here. Though if Jenny could really have her way, she'd get Teyla into a bed in the Infirmary and get her sedated. The woman is obviously still in shock.

"If you like, we could bring him here… the Ingorians would find you a private room near by?" The Ingorian Doctor nods. This can easily be arranged.

"Thank you… but… I… someone else…" She is rejecting Torren John?

"Teyla…" Jenny's face lit blue as she earnestly scans Teyla's, "there is nothing you can do here… it is not good for you here… your child needs you…"

"What is going to happen to John?" It is… as if she has not heard.

Jenny sighs. But she knows that a clear understanding of procedures always helps those… left to watch. Sometimes they nearly suffer the most. Another brief glance at John. "The first stage. The critical stage. A solution. A sort of a wash. To remove damaged skin and the last remnants of clothing. To encourage new skin growth underneath and heal the lungs. The second stage, a gel, for further skin and hair growth. And this in conjunction with a third stage, when… cosmetic surgery can be initiated." Lips, eyes, ears and nose. And three fingers. She feels reluctant to go into details, but has brought all recent photos of the Colonel with her in addition to his medical records. She feels like she is still working in the Stone Age. These guys have already begun skin cultures of the relevant organs and assure her there will not even be scarring. "As airbourne infection is his worst threat, these containment units are ideal…" she smiles feebly. An attempt to lighten Teyla's mood, "like a mother's womb really."

It feels literally true. Patients float in the liquid, attached to tubes, like umbilical cords but feeding sedation and oxygen and carrying sensor wires. The solution in the tanks simulates and was once derived from embryonic fluid, with some other ingredients thrown in for good measure. They'd be morality issues to answer back home. Hence the question mark over whether to allow Sheppard to remain a patient here. But research for this is already thousands of years old on Ingoria. And Jenny, for one, is damned glad they got Sheppard in there so quickly without asking for the ok first. She is convinced it has increased his chances of survival by a good two hundred per cent. But his chances were never very great in the first place…

And how she understands the procedure… the fluid means none of the abrasiveness and consequent pain that patients would experience on Earth. None of the weeks and months of painful skin grafts and disfigurement. These tanks for Jenny are her equivalent of ZPMs.

And they've been no reprimands from the Ingorians for Sheppard's little escapade. Apologies. If anything. There should have been more security. The Team should have been warned about going off limits without a guide. They should have been warned about the gas mines. It has been explained that they'd been set by Wraith, in pique, long ago, when they'd failed to take the City. The reason why Teyla, with her Wraith DNA was unaffected. Most mines have been discovered and removed. But some remain still, triggered off by animals. Or an unsuspecting passer by… Hence the tanks… always ready for emergencies…

"He'll make it, Teyla. You know he will." Medical platitudes. Or lies even? She has her own doubts…

Eighty per cent third degree burns. Only the vest and boots has offered any protection. And the gas so corrosive, lungs are severely damaged.

"But… I could have saved him so much sooner…" And Jenny is alarmed by the tone of the voice. Cold… and full of so much self-hatred.

"You must have been in shock." Teyla still holds the thermal blanket tightly at her neck, shivering slightly, even now.

"Dr. Keller. You are talking to someone who has faced Wraith. I froze… I allowed fear…" She cannot finish. Tears well again as they have done so many times this night.

"But you acted promptly when you did."

"A radio call? That was all." Almost a sneer.

And for Teyla. The first nightmare again. So long. So long for the second Jumper to arrive. Alone. Listening to John's feeble rattling breathe. Expecting each one to be his last.

"And for what? Because Teyla Emmagan needed a breath of fresh air!" Forcing, feeding the contempt into every word.

Ronon stands and comes to her side, offering a hand for comfort. "Teyla. It was an accident. It was not your fault." She pulls her shoulder sharply away from his touch, allowing the blanket to fall.

"Look at his face! Look at his face, Ronon! I did that to him!" Spitting out the words.

Jenny is alarmed now. "Teyla! I think you should get some rest. You haven't slept. I'll give you something and we'll find that bed, huh?"

"Leave. Me. Alone!" And she pushes away from Keller's offer of a hand too. "Don't. Touch. Me!"

Woolsey, McKay and an Ingorian official enter the room at that moment.

"Teyla?" Woolsey looks from the Athosian to Jenny to Ronon, questioning. No one replies. And he tactfully allows it pass. "We're ready to go now. You are happy to leave this matter in, what I am certain are the very capable hands of the Ingorians, Dr. Keller?" It doesn't go unnoticed. That he uses the words 'this matter.' Nor that, he too, cannot look directly at the tank.

"Yes. That's fine." The strain still in Jenny's voice from the run-in with Teyla. She speaks to Rodney, who is carrying a large metal case. "You have your ZPM?" It sounds condescending, but she is attempting re-assurance. Rodney looks so pale, even more so in the intense blue light. And is another… who will not look at the tank.

He numbly nods. She isn't certain that the man isn't close to tears.

And then he manages to croak a reply. "Yes… um… it… seems too much of a price to pay now…" He glances down at his case. "I mean… without a ZPM… life is… inconvenient…but… without…" He waves a hand in the direction of Sheppard. And abruptly leaves the room.

oOo

Ronon pushes two armchairs together for her. In the hope that she will sleep.

She isn't sure if she ever wants to. Convinced they'll be more nightmares waiting for her. Though she curls up in the makeshift bed nevertheless. But has merely exchanged one spot to watch the tank for another. Ronon has offered her the sleeping pills that Teyla has seen Jenny slip into his pocket. When she refuses, he doesn't push it. Wordlessly, throwing himself into a chair beside her. Fingering his lips and beard. Lost in thought. Still not daring to look at the tanks.

And this one, is the bravest one of them all…

There will be no visitors for the other three patients. This is an entire family. A couple and an elderly parent caught whilst working in a field on the mainland the day before. The daughter had been in her first trimester. The unborn child was lost. Teyla shivers at the thought. Death seems so unfair.

The four patients held in their watery world lit by the macabre blue light. Not like burns victims at all. But dead and drowned and bruised and blue with cold. She remembers Fanon on Athos, who had slipped and fallen into the Great Waterfall whilst fishing had looked like that when they'd pulled him out.

Bubbles escaping their breathing apparatus, like last breathes. Gurgling as if strangled. An occasional, spasmodic jerk, the twitch of the nervous system, like the last kick, the last throes of the dying. Jenny was incorrect to say these tanks were like the womb. Everything about them suggests death.

Sleep would never have been easy, even if she wishes it. The strangeness of the room. The unfamiliar noises. The forced pumping of the oxygen machine. The constant effervescence as the filters work. The low humming of the filters themselves. Necessary, it has been explained, to clear clothing remnants and dead tissue. And every so often, a whirring and sucking as a purification unit kicks into action, replacing ten percent of the solution with fresh. Which culminates in a loud whoosh as a jet of water turns the patient. To further facilitate cleansing of dead damaged skin. To keep the exposed lower dermatological layers, that will eventually form new skin, supple. And somewhere, in there, the steady beeping of a heart monitor…

It all seems so artificial. And this further distances them from the world of humans. And of the living…

And yet a contradiction. If the routine and the rhythms continues… then John still lives.

She closes her eyes eventually. And listens. Attentive.

For John still lives…

oOo

When she wakes. Ronon. Standing. Looking through the glass. Her own posture of earlier. He glances her way at the sound of her stirring. And turns back to the glass.

"He should have died. Not be put through all this."

"Is that what you truly believe?" She comes to his side. Rubbing a stiff neck.

"Face it, Teyla. If he lives, what lies ahead?"

"They have assured us that they can cure him. Without even scarring. They have an eighty per cent success rate." With sleep, some of her usual optimism has returned.

"Yeah…Sorry." Let her hold onto hope. "I'm just not good at bedsides." He blurts out.

"You can leave, Ronon. Everyone will understand. Please do not stay on my account."

But Jenny has asked him to stay. For moral support. For Teyla. And that is enough of a reason.

oOo

So Ronon stays. And Jenny visits. Bringing a change of clothes for the two of them. Never forcing the issue of Torren John on Teyla. Merely telling her that her child is fine. They change, shower, try to sleep in rooms provided. In turns. Keeping a vigil.

Rodney does not come.

The last remnants of the uniform of Sheppard disintegrate in a day. The last mangled remains of his hair not long after. Grateful that two wads of gauze protect his eyes. Or rather… the nerves of his eyes. As the eyes have been so severely damaged.

A further day and the blackened skin begins to fray away.

And suddenly it is too much for Ronon.

"This is not Sheppard." And he leaves.

And Teyla accepts his departure without question. This is her punishment. To watch John alone, is the punishment meted out to her. She deserves this.

But she feels Ronon is incorrect. John is there, is he not? Is not the appearance of John. True. And a word creeps into her mind that she hates more than all the words of her guilt... Abomination. And she drives the word away the instant it is thought. To even think of such a word only compounds her guilt… But he is there. Something perceived. Intuitive. Tenuous. Yes. Like a mission into deep forest. When neither is in sight of the other. The trees. And the dark shadows of trees between. But each knows that the other is there, watching, guarding, protecting… she can feel him there in the shadows… and she knows that he senses her there too…

John.

There.

Still.

oOo

And Gelian is there also.

She has believed erroneously that he is an Ingorian historian.

But, soon after Ronon leaves, he appears, taking readings from the medical equipment. But rather perhaps… he has been there… and she has not noticed him… many medics have come and gone… and many have explained things to her… but she has not always remembered their faces…

"I thought you were…"

"An historian? No. Teyla-Lady, it is a hobby of mine only. Much to my chagrin, Ingorians do not place the study of history and anthropology very high on their list of priority. For them, it is science, science and nothing but science. We are a race of scientists… I… apologise, Teyla-Lady, I should not be talking like this… your friend… is so very ill…"

Her heart lurches. No one has used those words before. They've talked of cures. Success rates. Becoming well again.

"But he is improving!" She says, forcing brightness into her voice. Already new pink skin can be seen beneath the redness which in turn has replaced the charred blackness.

"I'm sorry, Teyla-Lady, but there is a long way to go yet…"

oOo

She sees her face in the glass. Her reflection. Her face. Thin and haggard. Her Eyes. Hollow and sunken. She scarcely sleeps. Eats less. This is her punishment. Alone. Watching John through the glass. And it is not always easy. She steels herself. Etching the second nightmare into the glass. So as not to remember the first nightmare.

They whisper around her.

Jenny is concerned about Torren John. She wishes that Teyla returns to Atlantis. To see the child. Or have someone bring the child to her. It is unnatural that Teyla does not wish to be with her son. But Teyla cannot be a mother to the boy. She allowed in fear. Seconds only. But her action has destroyed the whole time of the Universe. Destroyed the world of John. Destroyed her world. Her world to be strong for her son. To show him strength that he might learn by it. Her dream of motherhood shatters like glass. She is no longer worthy. His innocence would see her guilt.

This no place for a child. A child's place is with happiness. And happiness is no longer with Teyla.

They whisper around her.

Gelian brings her herb teas. To help her sleep. And in his eyes the whisper of sympathy that she does not deserve.

They whisper around her. Whisper her guilt. She is certain of it.

And Gelian whispers to Jenny. She is so beautiful. Even now. It is such a pity. How can I help? I am a scientist. I do not know what to do. I cannot even promise her the life of John Sheppard-Sir.

oOo

The second stage.

And Teyla sits in her room alone. They cannot allow her to be present while they move him. The risk of infection is high. Jenny has been permitted to assist Gelian in the operation. He is their best surgeon. And Jenny can learn much from watching the procedure.

They say she should try to sleep. But the waiting is nearly like a third nightmare.

In the shadows of the trees.

And John is not there…

Jenny knocks at her door and enters. Her face so serious and grave. At first, her voice is bright and cheerful.

"Everything went fine."

But.

The word is heavy. And carries all of Teyla's guilt.

"Teyla… John's…" The words are even heavy for Jenny to say. "John's lungs were more severely damaged than we first thought…" _It was the delay. If he had not been so long in the mist. If she had not hesitated. This would not be so. Why do you not say I am to blame? Why do you not say it? Why do you not say that Teyla Emmagan has done this to John? _" Gelian will perform a second operation… lung transplant… when the tissue is ready… this isn't a problem… we haven't been entirely honest with you…" _They whisper and whisper her guilt. _"…his brainwaves have been very sluggish… the lungs not functioning as they should… lack of oxygen to the brain…Teyla… John suffered extensive brain damage right from the onset."

And John can only whisper through the shadows of the trees. The third nightmare.

But John whispers with the others now.

_You are to blame, Teyla Emmagan_.

The fourth nightmare.

_You are to blame Teyla Emmagan, he whispers. _

She has allowed the worse nightmare in.

oOo

When he is returned to the tank, the gel is thick and opaque. It is like he is encased in ice. The glass seems thicker. He is more distant from her than ever.

But even through this, can be seen the skin that is pink and fresh. And tapes over ears, nose and eyes. These are mending too.

It is Gelian's hope that he can mend Teyla also. He talks to her. Nothing important. Never too intrusive. Lets her be. Careful not to cause pain. This is delicate surgery. Or allows her to talk. Which is seldom. And often questions. That he answers. He hopes they can be friends. He hopes he can share her burden. He hopes that she would talk of John Sheppard-Sir. He knows enough of other fields of medicine to know that talking helps. That talking helps with grief. The grief that he has seen so many times before. And soon, Teyla-Lady's guilt will surely turn to grief…

He talks of little things.

"The name, 'Teyla'? It is Athosian for 'silver ball.'? "

She is surprised. "Yes. You know this?" Born when the Athosian moon sat full and pregnant in the night sky.

He shrugs. "Once, I studied your ancient tongue."

He gives her good news… to lead on to the other news he has to tell her.

"The inoculation programme is going well. Soon all those living on the surface will be protected from the Wraith mines." He knows this will please her. That the Wraith DNA in her blood was used as a basis for the inoculations. That they could never have hoped to have access to the DNA if Teyla had never visited Ingoria. That something good has come of this tragedy. That John Sheppard-Sir will be the last to suffer this way…

"Tomorrow, I intend to operate on John Sheppard-Sir again. His skin is completely healed now. So, at long last, we can get him into a proper bed."

"That…that is good…" It will be strange to no longer look through the glass.

"It will certainly be more comfortable for all concerned," he smiles weakly. "And then, we shall see if we can get those brain cells working again, eh? I still have some tricks up my sleeves."

He hopes that she does not hear the doubt in his voice.

oOo

John's hands are cold. And she rubs them briskly between her own.

Ronon would now say this is John Sheppard. This is his face. And he even has short stubbly hair. And she assists daily to shave him.

But John cannot even whisper her guilt through the trees.

He has new eyes that do not see. They scare her. For sometimes he springs them open. As if in fear. As if he is going to accuse her. And then they stare at the ceiling. Unblinking. For hours on end. And become dry. And full of mucus.

For John Sheppard-Sir has no tears.

Gelian puts drops in his eyes and closes the lids. Hoping they will remain closed, knowing how much they disturb her.

It unnerves her too, how occasionally he jerks and shudders. As in a nightmare. She wishes he could have a nightmare. But, they tell her, John Sheppard-Sir has no dreams.

His mind cannot even tell his body to breathe. He only lives because of the Ingorian breathing machine.

There is only one bandage now. Where Gelian has drilled through his skull. Jenny gave the procedure its proper medical name. But Teyla has forgotten it. Chemicals were inserted to activate new cell growth. But even the second attempt failed.

And then Jenny is speaking.

"It would be kindness to let him go…"

oOo

She remembers. Someone saying. Guilt is often felt by those left behind. She thinks it may have been Jenny.

You talk as if he were dead, she had replied.

They had known then. Ronon and Rodney. Another reason to keep away.

Now they come.

Their final farewells.

And Teyla leaves them alone.

_She can hear the whispering still.__ They whisper her guilt. Accuse her. She is certain of this._

Tomorrow, Mr. Woolsey will return also. Bringing with him the paper signed by David Sheppard. Giving permission for Gelian to turn off the machine.

oOo


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks again reviewers..._

* * *

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream - Part Three

"Teyla? You remember that I told you… we are a race of scientists… it was not always so… once we were like all Ancients and strove towards Ascension… at that time, there were many among us who could heal… with the mere touch of a hand… without the need for years of study and training like the doctors at this hospital… but there remains a few that still wish to adhere to the principles of Ascension… they have a dwelling place… a Sanctuary… high in the mountains… I cannot promise… but there may be one there who can heal…"

oOo

There is a strangeness in this.

To look after her own physical well-being. After so many days of neglect. After so many days of concern for John.

"I cannot land the Jumper close. The ground is so uneven and slopes steeply." There is another reason. But Gelian isn't about to go into that now. Ator, who runs the Sanctuary, complains that the noise disturbs their peace. "There is a landing area that they have. For supplies. Which they keep relatively free of snow, but it requires a walk. So, there is protective clothing in the rear that I have prepared for you. The cold, here, is so severe, it can kill."

The HUD is showing -52C.

She dons what is essentially thick quilted overalls. A padded hood with a visor much like a hazmut suit. A unit at the waist to drive warm air into the hood and through tubing than runs between the fibres of the overalls. Added protection comes from boots, fur lined inside and out. Nature often cannot be bettered.

Gelian lands the craft. Quickly puts on his own suit and helps her to attach the battery and unit at her waist.

"You have been here many times before, Gelian-Sir?" She has soon taken to the Ingorian term of formality.

And it is details such as this, Teyla's willingness to accept others' customs as worthy of consideration, that makes Gelian find her so… endearing. He is a scientist. The feeling can never be stronger than… endearing. But he has to concede… he has never seen anyone quite so… stunning in a thermal suit.

He sighs. "Yes. I have."

"A sigh?" And she raises a quizzical eyebrow. Something else that he… likes. And he assists her with the hood. With its added attachment, to exhale the warm air and prevent condensation on the inside of the visor.

"Ator. The Sanctorian, here, is my father, you see. We have not always seen eye to eye. If he had his way, I would have long ago not been of this world… He wished that I followed the road to Ascension… However, being the dutiful son that I am, I have to visit… but you do not wish to hear of my problems… we must go…" Inwardly, he bites his lip. His last words have all the sound of chastisement… and he is still trying to be so very careful with Teyla's fragile state of mind.

"No. Please. Tell me more of your father," insists Teyla as they leave the Jumper behind, taking the first steps out into the sparkling whiteness beyond.

He supposes it will distract her from what must truly be on her mind.

"There is very little to tell. He runs the Sanctuary. He is very highly thought of. Is a very learned scholar." And a cantankerous old fool. But that is Gelian's opinion. "Usually the post is for seven years and then the Sanctorian may Ascend himself. But Ator has dedicated his whole life in guiding others." So he is compelled to give his father some credit. This is quite a sacrifice. "I should warn you, however, he is a telepath. And that can be very disconcerting." To say the least… and this has always been the fundamental problem in their relationship. Right from the time he'd been a boy and had been unable to lie like other normal children about stealing apples from the orchard, to now, when his father can see his indecision, torn between Ascension or remaining on Ingoria to continue healing as a physician.

They are following a path where the snow is not deep, cleared the day before and marked by a double line of poles, leading up to the Sanctuary. Lost in thought he hasn't noticed Teyla coming to a halt some metres behind him. She turns to face the way they've just come. Looking beyond the Jumper to the mountainous landscape beyond. And yes, he concedes, the view is spectacular. The snow covered peaks. Black rock outlining, adding to the cold clear air, making the picture somehow sharper and more defined. A brilliant blue sky. Yes. She would find it breathtaking... Perhaps he has more of his father's telepathic abilities than he cares to admit to…

A breeze blows across the tops of drifts, brushing off a misty spray of snow. Nearby pine trees hush and sway gently.

A world of whispers. She remembers the whisper of the wind across the grasslands of Athosia. She wishes… wishes for the embrace of that whisper again… the wind playing with her hair… a world of whispers free of pain. Free of guilt.

Briefly, only very briefly, it is a world that whispers hope.

But John whispers still in the shadow of the trees. And it is like shattering glass. The whispers crowd and becomes angry cries. _I would not be here! I would not be here if it were not for you, Teyla Emmagan!_

_oOo_

"You bring a Wraith?! _Here?!"_

"Father!" And Gelian glances back at her. Apologetic. As he knows she can hear every word.

Teyla stands, dripping in the simple stone hallway, awkward, still in her thermal overalls though she's removed her hood. Wondering if this is a mistake. The Sanctorian, for all his red robes of office… seems so… ordinary… and so bigoted.

A deep longing cuts through her heart. To return back to John. Would it have not been more beneficial to have shared… those last moments? And a worry. That Mr. Woolsey may have... But they have promised. To do nothing until Teyla and Gelian return.

She cannot believe she could ever feel this unhappy.

She watches the students in their white robes as they file past to attend classes. As they watch her with curiosity. Is that what she is? A curiosity? Certainly the centre of commotion along with their Sanctorian and his son. But to be a curiosity because of her Wraith DNA? She has never before considered it. Never before considered, or even deemed it important that the Wraith side of her might be seen as an obstacle to Ascension. She is suddenly an outcast here. She feels contaminated. She feels contaminated because she is part-Wraith. She feels contaminated because of her guilt. These people… these people cannot be as guilty as she as they follow the road to Ascension… they are pure… she is dirty… contaminated… guilty…

And the longing to leave is even more intense.

Gelian takes his father's elbow and hastily leads him into an adjoining room.

"Can you not feel that she is… different?"

The older man scoffs. "Apart from the fact she is a Wraith?! Is this not love? Infatuation? It is certainly not common sense? Why not just marry her?! Instead of dragging her half-way up a mountain?!"

"Father! Please! Do not mock! And you know she is not a Wraith!"

The Sanctorian is serious in an instant. "Yes… she is different. I sensed it the moment she walked through the door."

"Then… why do you play games with me?!"

"I don't know. Perhaps because I find you so irritating!"

"I cannot believe that someone such as you could ever be a Sanctorian!"

"I am honest. I am honest with myself and know who I am. Can you say the same, Gelian?"

Gelian shakes his head. Partly in despair of ever understanding.

Ator continues. "You need a healer. There are none here, at the present. Of course, there would have been if _someone_ had remained here to finish to the end."

"Don't go into that now… I need someone to heal Teyla-Lady."

"Not for John Sheppard-Sir? No. I see your reasoning. Heal Teyla-Lady and she will heal John Sheppard-Sir… There is hope for you yet, Gelian…"

"But we… you only have a day… as even now, she is prepared to turn back…"

"Well, then… there is hope for me also…"

oOo

"Teyla-Lady. Come and eat with us." And he indicates the way to their dining hall. "It is bread and a simple broth."

She bows her head. "It is sufficient." At least, the Wraith woman knows courtesy.

"Gelian? Where is Gelian?" She is suddenly alarmed. Knowing already he has left without her. Perhaps this was all a trick to get her away from John… she needs to go back… needs to go back…

"Do not concern yourself… he had to return to the hospital… he will come for you again in the morning…"

Ator has a soothing voice and she is calm in an instant. But does not speak while they eat. The food is nearly choking her… Ator has calmed her. But she still needs to get back to John. When she speaks, the words nearly choke also.

"There is no healer here is there, Ator-Sir?" She is nearly accusing him. And she is instantly sorry. She has not meant it so.

"No, Teyla-Lady, not at the present…" Her face falls. She looks down at the food she can no longer eat. She respects his honesty. And is accustomed to the sadness now.

"Perhaps tomorrow? We shall see…" he says.

oOo

"Teyla-Lady? Come and meditate with me… I have a favourite spot."

"I…" She cannot explain. She has nearly forgotten how to meditate. No. She has denied herself meditation. It is a part of her punishment. To find no peace…

"I always see some irony in meditation…" chatters Ator as he leads the way. "It is supposed to calm the mind… and yet… a calm mind is often necessary to begin the process, hmm? Don't you think?" He shows her into a courtyard. A chill wind in her face.

"This should be unthinkable, to be outside, but there are two hours in the day when this courtyard is sheltered enough to permit such pleasures. A glass canopy closes overhead if it does snow and when the temperature drops. And the floor is heated."

The scene before Teyla could nearly delight her, at any other time. Not now. But her eyes take in the many potted plants, a small garden where even a pink blossomed tree grows, and stones and sculptures standing carefully placed. And the trickling of a water feature that falls through wooden chutes. And chimes that play in the breeze. The sunshine dances on the water, the metal, the wet stones, and the leaves.

Cushions have been placed on flagstones beneath the tree and he invites her to sit.

He sits opposite her. Cross-legged. So she mirrors him and sits cross-legged also. But she is so unsure of this. She needs to get back to John…

He takes her hands into hers.

"You have not done this for some time?"

She shakes her head. She dare not allow herself to speak. Dare not look at Ator's face. She wants to pull her hands away. To run to John… She looks at Ator's face. To plead with him… Not to make her do this… There are only nightmares when she does this…

And the sounds of the garden seep in…

Her breath is deep…

And her mind plays the first nightmare again… slower… the sounds of the garden… the wind… Ator's voice… 'And you were to blame? There is nothing here except events… happenings… How were you to blame? Forgive yourself. Say it. Say you forgive yourself.'

'I can't!' And she breaks free from the meditation and his hands.

And Ator knows he has pushed her too fast.

He sighs. "Your life, as I see it, has been full of incident, fraught with danger always. Mistakes have been made. Yours. Others. Yet you have always remained charitable, Teyla-Lady. To others. To yourself even. What is so special about John Sheppard-Sir? Why is this occasion so very different?"

"He… deserved… better than this…"

"Deserved?"

"No… deserves…" He is not dead yet.

"He deserves better than this? This? This death? We all have to die. And, unless you Ascend, the manner of it is never of our own choosing… I apologise… I am playing with words… but why not?... it is Teyla the Warrior Queen speaking… the world through her eyes… you'd prefer he died a soldier's death?" He is being harsh he knows.

"No. No," she murmurs, "he deserves to live still…"

"But why do you persist in believing that this is all your own doing? I am not alone in saying you are not to blame. Others have said it also. No… 'deserved' was correct the first time, I think… So. What was so special about John Sheppard-Sir? I have seen your mind. I have seen the… abomination… that is what you called him once?... that has passed for John Sheppard these last few weeks. I have seen his lifeless form. Perhaps Ronon was correct Teyla-Lady. That was not John Sheppard. What was John Sheppard lies before… all this. Yet you allow your mind to run to the present John. You are caught up in these images and are blind to all else."

He rises.

"I must leave now. I have evening prayers to attend to. A guest room has been prepared for you." He pats her shoulder. "In my absence, try and meditate some more Teyla-Lady. I know that I am constantly instructing my pupils to stay grounded in the present. The past is past. Finished. Done with. The future? What point is there about worrying about the future when it is … nothing and does not exist. But I think it is important for you to find your friend again Teyla-Lady and he is in the past."

oOo

She stares out across the snowy landscape turning grey as night approaches. She has tried to eat the light supper that a kindly lady in white has brought but fails.

This may be John's last night. And she wishes he could share the quiet beauty beyond the window. She turns away. Folding her arms about her body. She does not wish to… cannot enjoy it. To go to bed would be pointless as she will not sleep. And for a moment, she is angry with Gelian for not taking her back to the hospital.

There is a tap at the door. She guesses it is the lady come to collect the tray. But it is Ator-Sir.

He knows she has not been thinking on their earlier conversation. He sighs. There is still so much work to do here before tomorrow's dawn.

He wishes to resume the meditation of earlier. And throws cushions to the floor. Sits cross-legged again. Closes his eyes and prepares his breathing. But Teyla remains standing.

"I came here to seek a healer. Not to meditate." Her words seem blunt. To the point of rudeness. "You said there might be a healer here tomorrow?"

Ator speaks to her. Without opening his eyes.

"All in good time. Please. Come and sit." She does so. Reluctantly.

"The relevance of all this?" He asks the question that is in her mind. "Gelian is concerned for you. He wishes for you to be healed. Yes. Teyla-Lady. You are sick also. But it is a sickness that cannot be healed by Gelian." He opens his eyes.

But Jenny has already offered her mind healing. She knows all this. She knows of the psychiatrist on Atlantis. But she does not want this. She only wishes that John can be made well again. Only that would heal her mind. A little. For the guilt is burned and scarred into her forever.

"No. Teyla-Lady. Your healer today is John Sheppard-Sir."

For a moment Teyla cannot comprehend his words. John is well, alive and here?

"No. Teyla-Lady. No. To heal, you are in need of forgiveness. You will not, seem incapable of forgiving yourself. Therefore we must ask it of John Sheppard-Sir. _But he whispers her guilt. Whispers with all the others in the trees._

"But he is not here." And the words are bitter.

"Teyla…" Unbidden, she looks into the eyes of Ator-Sir. And is held there in his gaze. And she knows that her breathing slows. And her mind clears. Till the eyes and the face of Ator are no more. A white… mist. Ator's voice. Words. But not words. Senses. She knows their meaning before any word is uttered. Like a dream… when no one speaks but the words and meaning are known… You are going to ask John for forgiveness. If he ever thought you to blame in the first place. You have merely to look to see if it is offered. I have asked you… what is so special about John Sheppard… it is not a difficult question… the answer is friendship… though among those who wish to Ascend… there is a word that means something more than simple friendship… it goes deeper… much deeper… aundama… it doesn't merely describe the friend but the friendship and the emotion behind that friendship. And often transcends that love between a man and a woman. To lose that… all that, is to be in a state of osaundama. Often it is a physical barrier. Death. A friend moves away. Or we can put up our own mental barriers. An argument perhaps. A strong emotion. Hatred. Envy. Suspicion. Elitism. Or…unworthiness, guilt. You are in a state of osaundama, Teyla-Lady. The way that you tend to John is not friendship but duty for you feel you should. You have lost sight of friendship in all the events, in all the trauma of these past few weeks. You have lost John Sheppard-Sir and therefore cannot possibly find his forgiveness.

Together, we will find that friend… and the words that were not words fell silent. And in the mist. Teyla's home on old Athos. And there were strangers in the tent. And she frowns. For she is not accustomed to strangers in the tent. And these are soldiers of a place they call Earth. And they carry weapons. And it feels threatening. Though they say they have come for help from the Athosians. It feels like a trick. They cannot be sure. And their leader looks straight through her. And she does not like the feeling that he carries. He carries a bad aura. But another… another speaks… "I like, uh, ferris wheels and, uh, college football, anything that goes faster than two hundred miles per hour… I love a good cup of tea… we're practically friends already…" This mahalele speaks of strange things but he speaks with an honesty, a truthfulness that comes through the easy words…

_… a friendship offered with no ties… such a man would offer forgiveness and would not blame…_

And in the mist… the dining area of the Daedalus… a rescue mission for Ronon on Sateda… and hands that play awkwardly with the paper coffee cup… and awkward words… but words that are sincere and from the heart... "I want you to know… anyone of you, is more than family to me…"

_… a friendship with strong bonds… such a man would offer forgiveness and would not blame…_

And in the mist… the gym on Atlantis… the apology… for a kiss taken…

_…a friendship with respect for your womanhood… such a man would offer forgiveness and would not blame…_

And in the mist… again the gym on Atlantis… and it is not long after he has invited her to join his team… his words… as he lays defeated and beaten on the mat… "it doesn't matter how much I practice, you're gonna kick my ass anyway…"

_…a friendship with respect for your abilities… such a man would offer forgiveness and would not blame…_

And in the mist… Sergeant Bates accuses her of leaking information to the Wraith… his face full of hatred… that she lashes out… and John is angry with her… but it is anger at her quarrel with the Sergeant… for later… he defends her… his words… "there is no way she would do this…"

_…a friendship with trust… such a man would offer forgiveness and would not blame…_

And in the mist… the infirmary… Dr. Beckett explaining how John landed the space shuttle so that she could be freed from the containment unit…and John visits… 'I would do it for any one of you…' and later… all the missions to rescue her from Michael…

_…a friendship with loyalty, involving self-sacrifice and selflessness… such a man would also offer forgiveness and would not blame…_

And there is silence. Only her breathing. And the mantra of Ator-Sir comes to an end. The mist clears. And she slowly opens her eyes.

"I apologise…"

"You apologise?" says Ator-Sir, surprised. He believes for one moment he has failed once more with Teyla-Lady.

"I apologise as I have troubled you for what I should have seen myself."

oOo

She wakes early and so joins the others for morning prayers. A blessing from Ator-Sir. Thanks for their simple life. Their existence. Clear minds to meditate. A wish that their path can also be the path of others.

Ator-Sir disappears into his study. Teyla is left free to roam the Sanctuary. Panic is rising. She feels it is impolite to press Ator for news of a healer when he is so busy. And where is Gelian? Surely he must be arriving with the Jumper soon. She must be at John's side when Woolsey returns, healer or not.

She paces outside Ator's door. Not daring to knock.

Then Ator appears. The sun is already at its peak.

"Ah Teyla-Lady! At last… I am sorry… a busy morning, I'm afraid… Back to our courtyard…" And she feels grateful and reassured that he says 'our courtyard.' His hand guides her round her back.

"I have asked for tea to be served and they have promised us treats as I have such a beautiful guest."

She nearly blushes.

They are attended to by the lady in white again. And she opens a jar of what appear to be cookies as served in the mess hall.

"They taste like chocolate but you cannot possibly have chocolate here?" She is surprised at this. And surprised also that she enjoys the taste… perhaps… perhaps she should not…

"I do not know what … choco… late is? And neither should an Athosian, I believe. I fear the Lanteans have spoilt you and pampered a sweet tooth… but such food is always the way to a woman's heart."

Teyla smiles weakly.

"That's better! I knew it could be done! A smile at last! Sorrow does not become you, Teyla-Lady."

"And flattery does not become a holy man." She amazes herself. That she joins in this banter. At a time like this. It is wrong. It feels so wrong.

Ator-Sir holds up his hands. "I confess it. It is my downfall. I will never ascend!"

"I believed this was your choice?"

"Yes… but perhaps in my doting old age I might wish it. Who knows? And you, Teyla-Lady? You are content to be a warrior queen? And have never aspired to Ascend?"

"No. My place is with my people."

"Pity. I have known you for only a day and I see great potential. Gelian sees it also."

"I thought that as …a part Wraith it was denied me?"

"Oh that… don't take any notice of that… that was for Gelian's benefit… when I cannot think of a reason why he annoys me, I simply invent one!"

She still feels some amusement, sipping her tea. This is wrong. This is so wrong… To simply have this conversation. To enjoy her tea…

"Still feeling… the guilt eh?"

She shrugs though suddenly she could cry. Bad thoughts come flooding in. Bad images. Nightmares again. They are never really far away. They do not belong here in this tranquil spot of the courtyard. Perhaps it is the other way round. She should not be here sullying this ground with her presence, with her bad thoughts…

"I imagine it will be like that… up and down… but… you are relatively at peace now?"

She puts down her teacup. Not trusting herself to drop and break the cup, or to spill the tea. She has to put strength into the words. A strength she does not feel. "I am grateful for yesterday. This you know." And she sees John lying there, helpless and needing help. "I wish… I wish, however, to meet now with this healer, if he, or she has arrived? Time…" Time is running out.

"Yes. I believe the healer is here now…"

And Teyla looks up expectantly. He has known this all along? This is more of Ator's playful manner?

"Gelian wished me to discuss something with you first… So as not to keep you, I will be direct. Prior to coming to Ingoria, John Sheppard-Sir had a dream and you asked him if this were a premonition?"

"You know all this? From… reading my mind?"

"At the time you were perhaps simply being conversational, but deep down, you did indeed sense the truth behind the dream. You are more perceptive that you realise, Teyla-Lady."

"I cannot believe that you can see all of this…"

"Oh, it gets more amazing than that even! You even are subconsciously aware of the details of the dream and yet he did not provide them."

"I cannot see what this has to do with a healer-"

"-Please be patient… bear with me… it has everything to do with this particular healer…The way of all dreams it was confused. But basically, John Sheppard-Sir was on this very mountain. His lungs were damaged following a crash with a Gateship. He made it here for help. But subsequently died. I was able to save him, to bring him back to life, which you know I could not possibly do. Whilst here, he was given a gift. The gift of… a silver ball."

Teyla draws in her breath sharply.

"Perhaps you can see where this is leading?... A silver ball that John-Sheppard-Sir takes back to Atlantis but science cannot explain. How would you interpret a dream such as this that possesses such grounding in reality? I gave him a silver ball and also the gift of life. Both together. And the silver ball, we know what, or who that is."

"I… I do not know what to say…how does…?"

"How does this connect with the present situation that you both find yourselves in?... Gelian believes you can save John Sheppard-Sir. That you can heal him. That you have that ability. He has told you, perhaps, that once he chose the path to seek Ascension but had second thoughts? He has much wisdom, though I hate to confess it."

"But how can this be possible? I would do it if I knew how. How can I do this thing?"

"The answer lies in your Wraith DNA, Teyla-Lady. It has given you the power to communicate with the Wraith? But it also gives you the ability to connect with life forces. When a Wraith feeds, it is theft, it is rape of life forces. With you, the connection is more of a deeper understanding of your fellow humans - no, please! Do not blush! For it is true! But the Wraith also have the ability to return that life force, a gift of life to their fellow brothers. There is really nothing to prevent you from doing the same for John Sheppard-Sir."

"Surely I would have had to taken such a life force first?"

"No. Not necessarily. It is merely a transfer, a sharing of their own regeneration. But even if what you surmise is true, then, yes, you have taken life forces from John Sheppard-Sir, though it was always offered freely. All the things that you considered yesterday… friendship, loyalty, trust, generosity, respect… all these are life forces that you have accepted from John Sheppard-Sir. Now it is time to return them… I am sending John Sheppard-Sir his silver ball, Teyla-Lady. And it will save him."

oOo

The room is the same.

It is filled with the same quiet rhythms as before. The wheeze and crack of the ventilator. The beep of a heart monitor. Small noises that belie their importance. Lines on a console screen flicker blue keeping to that same rhythm. One line, one line that is horizontal does not change.

And John lies still, so still.

It is two things. It is a life rhythm that is his. But it is a life rhythm that he is no longer any part of.

In the short time she has been away, she is sure that his hair has grown. And he looks like his former self once more. And that causes hurt once more. And self doubt once more. And recrimination once more. She sets her face hard however. She must do this thing.

Gelian sees the last of his assistants out of the room.

"You wish that I leave also?" She shakes her head. Gelian thinks to dim the lights. And passes his hand over the lock mechanism. She will not be disturbed. Instructions have been left for Mr. Woolsey, if he returns, to wait.

Gelian stands by the door. This is out of his hands now. "There is no hurry, Teyla-Lady. Take your time." He knows. He understands that she must prepare herself for this.

Teyla stares down at John.

"I confess, Gelian, I do not know what to do." She remembers Ator-Sir. She remembers touching foreheads with Ator-Sir as she made her farewell. She remembers asking Ator-Sir what she should do. It will come instinctively, he says.

She is not comfortable with this. She so wants to give John her Gift. But this is a Wraith thing. And she has seen the evil that is Wraith. She has seen the hurt and the curse of the Wraith. But she remembers the Wraith they now call Todd. And she remembers how the Gift can be quite separate from evil.

There are practicalities now. And she feels awkward.

"I need to… access his chest…" she says softly to Gelian. And he understands again and comes to the bedside. He unfastens the ties on the side of John's gown for her.

"You would like me to remove the sensor pads?"

She shakes her head. She only needs room for the one palm. Her right hand. The feeding hand.

Gelian steps back again to his place in the shadows by the door.

"I must ask you, Gelian, not to be alarmed, but at the same time… if you believe I am harming John in any way, please do not hesitate to stop me."

He nods. He understands again.

She closes her eyes.

Beginning.

Was it simply enough to wish to do this? Or has she to imagine that she is Wraith? No. Remembers all those gifts that she wishes to return. Friendship… Loyalty… Trust… Respect… All these things are tied up in Teyla-Lady now. A part of a sphere that is a silver ball. She is going down deep to break into the ball. She is gathering, breathing strength from deep inside herself. This is like her stick fighting. The thought, magnified, by breath, becomes the action. And flows through her body. The thought, intensified, by her breath, becomes the strength. And flows through every muscle. The thought, expanded, by her breath, becomes the courage. And flows through every nerve. The thought, augmented, by her breath, becomes the agility that is in her limbs. The thought is fed by the rhythm of her breathing. And the rhythm of her breathing becomes the rhythm that is John's.

And it comes to her. Suddenly. And she is Wraith. But not the killing hunger-fuelled Wraith. There is pride here. Warrior virtues… bravery, fortitude, mutual respect… She is a warrior Wraith who desires to come to the aid of a fallen comrade…

She screams. And plunges her hand onto John's heart…

oOo

He had to get off the mountain.

Before the breath froze in his lungs.

The snow was so deep. The snow was so deep. There was no way off the mountain.

He was alone. He had nothing.

The trail of a desperate animal.

And he stumbled. The snow was so deep. So deep. He could sleep here. And not mind the numbing cold. Because the cold… was better than… burning… He could sleep here. Sleep here forever…

Nothing but white.

Alone with the white.

And then… Teyla was there.

There in his room of white.

She sat. Cross-legged. The wooden box before her. It's lid open. The silver ball on its red cushion.

He approached her. Only to touch glass. A glass panel divided the room in two. He ran his fingers in an arc over the glass. Cold. Cold like the snow. Then he noticed his sleeve. He was wearing scrubs. He was in a hospital? And it was weird… he remembered nothing. Except… this was Teyla… and that…was his silver ball.

And he couldn't reach either…

"Teyla!" And he beamed her one of his old smiles. And he looked so well and whole. That the tears quickly filled her eyes.

"Hey!" He touched the glass again. But couldn't comfort her. Though now he remembered why he should.

"Hey! Teyla?" And his own eyes started to moisten. "If you're crying coz of what happened… it wasn't your fault… no hard feelings, right?"

She'd so yearned for so long to hear him say that.

"I know that now," she whispered softly.

He started to pace up and down on his side of the glass.

"It's good to see you, but," and he stopped, "what are you doing here?" He didn't ask what he was doing here… this was where he was supposed to be, wasn't it? But not Teyla… Teyla shouldn't be here… she wasn't…

"I came to take you back… Back to Atlantis."

"Atlantis?" And then he remembered that also. "But… I don't…mind it here…"

"But it is so empty, John, and beyond you, is emptier still."

And he turned to follow her look. The wall behind him had gone… there was nothing… not even white…

"Yeah… I guess it is… if you put it like that…"

"Please come back with me, John."

"I can't… your world…" Hurt. Pain. Heart ache. He remembered all that too. And felt it in Teyla.

"It has all been taken care of now. Come back. Please."

He paced the floor again. Biting his lip.

And stopped. "How? How do I get back?" Looking at the glass all over.

"Take the ball."

"It's on your side."

"It doesn't matter." How did she know that?

"The last time I took that goddamned ball, the guy who gave it to me died. He gave his life for mine. I wouldn't want that to happen to you." Ator hadn't told her that.

"But that was only a dream, and… this is my choice anyway."

"A death wish, huh? You still feeling guilty?"

"I am not taking your death, John. I am giving you life. Will you not take the ball?"

"I can't."

"Please, John! I am giving you back all that you have ever given to me. You have given me all that is John. All of loyalty, trust, respect that is your friendship. This is my Gift. Please do not refuse my Gift."

He nodded slowly, understanding.

"I just take the ball, right?"

And Teyla nodded also.

But his hand reached out and still the cold, cold glass at his touch. Still the thick glass was a barrier to him. And he could not reach the ball.

Teyla. A look of alarm.

And John... Ok… this wasn't how the metaphysical world was supposed to work… he'd read all the SG1 Mission Reports. Wasn't this glass supposed to shatter, or dissolve like some force field?...

"It's looking like you're supposed to break the glass first…with the ball," he suggested, smiling wryly.

And Teyla smiled a crooked smile back. The smile bright in her eyes which was good to see.

She picked up the ball, carefully balancing it in the palm of one hand. "This, I think, is the humour of Ator-Sir." And she slammed the ball hard against the glass. With no effect. And Teyla looked worried again.

"Rodney said it was useless. Should have brought a brick with you…"

"What do I do, John?"

"Ever tried a baseball throw?" he said ruefully.

She laughed as she stood.

"You're serious? You're really gonna do this?" And John backed away from the glass on his side, as Teyla walked away on hers. And it was weird, because the white room became larger to give her the space for a run up. And how was she ever going to do this? She was a girl right? Who fell asleep during games? And she was still laughing so much… passing the ball from one hand to the other. Like some pro. Psyching herself up. And then threw back her arm for the launch… And John lost his nerve. And John covered his head with his arms and braced himself…

"Teyla! You're so gonna kill me!"

oOo

He wakes.

Choking.

Frantically pulling at the ventilator. With his hands. Eyes wild with panic. Choking. Can't breath. Can't breath.

And a voice. And hands that hold and soothe.

"Be calm, John. Be calm, John. Breathe steady now. Steady now. It's the ventilator. Breath with it steady now."

And he obeys the voice, because, hey, it's easier that way. Letting his head fall back into the pillow. But now he remembers something. And he wants to laugh. And it's not easy to laugh with a throat fall of tubing. And he sees Teyla. And she's laughing too. Though it's mainly joy.

And he looks to the Doctor guy. Who's trying to explain how he's going to take the tube out. But the Doctor guy's perplexed because he can't understand the joke.

And John nearly gags when the tube's gone. And then he's choking and laughing all at the same time.

"Teyla." And everything is said in that word.

And Teyla comes over and does the Athosian greeting thing. But they bump heads in a clumsy sort of way coz they're laughing so much. Again. And again.

"Ouch!" And then…"Teyla," he croaks, "if we ever get a team up, you're on it!"

oOo

The Jumper is parked on the mountain.

All around is deep, deep snow.

The world is peaceful now.

And a fire is dying in the snow. Sparks fly high into the cold crisp air.

The students at the Sanctuary. Black tunics over thermal suits. The drone of their funeral song. Muffled by the deep, deep snow.

Gelian stands alone. He wears the robe of red now. He will be following in his father's footsteps. And it'd been Teyla who'd offered him comfort. For Ator had not achieved Ascension.

"Perhaps there is more beyond life and death than we can ever know."

And John also wears the black tabard. And carries the Ingorian red rose of mourning. He stands awkward with the tradition. But the word respect is important to him. He has never met Ator. But Teyla has explained everything. And it was more than coincidence that Ator died at the exact hour that Teyla revived him.

And John throws his red rose into the fire. And everything is said in the action.

The low hushing whisper of the pines. And everything is said in that whisper.

And Teyla throws her red rose into the embers.

Ash shifting. Whispering.

Beyond sleep. Beyond dreams.

oOo


End file.
